


'til the party and the music and the truth collide

by Kindness



Category: How to Be Single (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 18:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12990165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kindness/pseuds/Kindness
Summary: One day she just walks back into his bar… Actually, it's a little bit more complicated than that.





	'til the party and the music and the truth collide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weasleytook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasleytook/gifts).



"You should go get drunk at a bar," her sister informs her, over the phone. "Isn't that why you moved back to the city?"

Lucy did not move back to the city to get drunk at bars. Lucy moved back to the city because the house in Westchester got unbearably depressing, and she and George both clearly never really wanted to live there in the first place. And it's been…nice. She's changed, but the Village hasn't. George's new place is only four subway stops away, Julianna _loves_ her new preschool (thank god), and – frankly – the one thing they can agree on is that they're killing it at divorce.

George has Juli Tuesdays, Thursdays, most Sundays, some Saturdays. At first those nights felt empty, but now? She runs errands, catches up on work, watches TV. And calls her sister, if she's feeling like some truly terrible advice. Case in point: "I mean, look, I know that's not really your scene, but come on. You're single in New York – "

"Exactly!" Lucy can't help the wail that creeps into her voice. "I'm single in New York _again_. I never wanted to be here! You're the one that likes being single, not me."

"Okay, I know," Emma says, adopting a soothing tone that is, in Lucy's opinion, unwarranted. She's only a little bit hysterical. "But I think you need to get out more. You can't just sit at home all the time playing Solitaire – "

"I am not playing Solitaire. I am playing Sugar Squares," says Lucy, with all the dignity she can muster. And then, because Emma's silence is just too pitying, "I don't even know what bar I'd go to. It's not like I ever hung out in bars much."

"What?" says Emma, incredulous. "You literally used to live at that bar downstairs! What was that place called? You were always Skyping me from it when I was in London. Ooooo, and flirting with that hot bartender you were friends with. Todd?"

"His name was Tom, and I didn't flirt with him." (Much.)

"Whatever," says Emma. "Anyway, go there! Go anywhere! Yelp something, god, it's 2021." There's a small scuffling noise on Emma's end of the line. "Luce, I gotta go. Text me later, and you better be drunk!"

And with that, she's gone. Quiet settles over Lucy like a guilty but reassuring blanket. She opens Google Maps, then closes it again.

What if she did text Tom, though? They used to text sometimes, though they haven't spoken in years.

_Hey!!!! I'm back_

_Hey!!!!!! I don't know if you heard, but I moved back to_

_Hey_

_Hi! Long time no_

Oh god, forget it. _Law & Order_ it is.

**

When she finally does get the nerve to go back to the bar, he's not even there.

It's a Thursday night in May. Lucy's reorganized all the closets, burned herself out on _SVU_ and everything ever starring Jerry Orbach, and even been on a handful of incredibly boring dates. George has started seeing someone, and her friends are asking constantly if she wants to be set up. "Ugh, isn't there anyone you could just hook up with?" Emma keeps saying, and then, "Oh right, sorry, it's you, I forgot." But somehow that thought sticks, and before Lucy knows it she's at drinks uptown with some people from work and then she's taking a (very expensive) cab to Deconstruction.

The guy behind the bar is tall and plaid and it's not until she's almost right there that he turns around and she sees he's a stranger.

On her second attempt, a week later, sober and feeling nervous, she learns the new bartender's name. Eric. He's in his late twenties, very cute, better-looking than Tom, to be honest. Similarly open to making out with patrons, though, Lucy observes. And then, because two shots and why not, partakes.

Emma is so proud of her; it's pretty embarrassing. Lucy goes back a third time and this time she goes home with Eric, a thing she hasn't done, well, ever. "So, um," she says, shifting uncomfortably on his mattress on the floor (god, twenty-somethings), "I'm actually a friend of Tom's. From…a long time ago. I was wondering if… I mean, I haven't seen him around."

Eric, in addition to being very cute, seems to be extremely good-natured and slightly oblivious. He probably leads a very "chill" life, Lucy thinks. The opposite of Lucy's life. "Oh, Tom doesn't really work nights anymore," says Eric, wandering naked over to the kitchen. "He usually comes in afternoons and then takes off around six. You want some cereal? I'm starving."

"Um," says Lucy. "I should probably go. But I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay," says Eric. "You want me to tell Tom you were looking for him?"

"No!" says Lucy, quickly. "I'll, um. I'll just text him or something. Come by. Sometime. A surprise. I want to surprise him. Thanks."

**

Tom does, in fact, seem surprised – pleasantly surprised, or so she hopes. She's at the window looking in one afternoon not long after that night at Eric's. She sees him there, the familiar silhouette – how could she ever have mistaken Eric for him? – and very nearly chickens out and leaves. But then he turns and sees her, too, and a grin breaks across his face. He makes an open-palmed gesture like a big shrug, as in, _what are you doing out there?_ and she shrugs a little back and goes to the door, finding herself grinning as well.

He hugs her tightly, warm and familiar. She wouldn't have thought she'd remember anything at all about him, but she does. He smells the same and feels the same and holds her out and looks at her with the same friendly bemusement, and then nudges her towards a seat at the bar.

"So…coffee and a sandwich from home, right?" he asks, already trying to mess with her, of course. "Maybe some Moscato if you're feeling crazy?"

She makes a face at him. "Sauvignon Blanc, actually, if you don't mind. I'm sophisticated now."

He laughs. "All right." She watches him pour the glass, checks him out a little (why not be honest with herself?). He's the same, mostly. Maybe a little less scruffy, a little more clean-shaven. But still a shadow of stubble across his jaw.

"What?" he says, catching her looking as he straightens up and shelves the bottle.

"Nothing," she says. "Just… I can't believe it's really you. It's been forever."

"Yeah, I guess it has." He looks her over, briefly, head to, well, elbow, and smiles. "It's good to see you. How's it going? How's George?"

"Over!" she says. Lately she's taken to saying it really decisively, as if that will make people think she's happy about it. She holds up her left hand, shows him – no more ring.

They both remember. It's a little weird. But then he says, "Oh wow, I'm sorry," just like anyone else, and the moment passes. "That sucks. Uh… When?"

"November," she says, breezily.

"Okay," says Tom, clearly uncertain now what tone to take. He picks up a rag and starts wiping down the bar. "How's your kid? It's a girl, right?"

"Yes," confirms Lucy, smiling. "Julianna. She's great. She's handling it… I mean, so well, considering. Way better than me!" Aaaand this is the most awkward conversation two people have ever had. "So," she says, brightly, "let's completely change the subject. How are you? What's going on?"

"Oh – " Tom seems caught off guard, not sure whether to laugh or…what. "Uh, not too much. Bar's doing great. I was thinking about maybe buying another one."

"Really? Where?" 

"Like in Bushwick, maybe. Near my girlfriend's place."

_Girlfriend._

"Wow," she says, and then, covering her shock with bigger shock, "Wait, 'girlfriend'?! Oh my god, Tom. Is that really you in there?? Help! My friend's been abducted."

"All right," he says, with a good-natured eyeroll. "I know I had that coming, but come on. It's been years. I can have a girlfriend. You've made a whole person."

"That's true," Lucy concedes.

"So… Are you dating again yet, or is that – "

"Ugh, don't get me started," she says. He grins. "I thought dating was horrible before? It's even worse now. There are _no_ good men."

"Hey, I've been trying to tell you that for years."

After that, it's a little better. She tells him all about her horrible dates for a while, and then she shows him some pictures of Juli, and he says she looks like her, which is nice, because Lucy knows she looks more like George. She tries to ask about his girlfriend, desperately curious, but he won't say much more than her name (Nat) and that she's "great." He catches her up on all the gossip, though – who still comes in the bar, who got married, who moved away.

"Come back anytime," he says, standing outside with her at 5:50 PM. He hugs her goodbye and walks off towards the subway, and then she's just left there, trying not to recognize the feeling that's definitely disappointment.

**

In mid-August, she runs into him at the farmer's market, of all places. She's got Juli with her for their Saturday-morning ritual of trying all the plums, both their hands and mouths sticky, and he's at the next stall, looking somehow better than he's ever looked at the stupid bar, his arm around a blonde girl who's maybe twenty-five. Oh god.

He sees her before she can figure out where to hide. "Lucy?" he says, and then, "Lucy!" So enthusiastic. So loud. So impossible to pretend she hasn't heard.

Julianna looks up, curious. "Mommy," she says, rising up on her toes, "does that tall man know us?"

"Uh, yes," says Lucy, wishing the plum display would open up and swallow them both. "That's my friend Tom. And his… Hi, Tom."

Tom and his presumable girlfriend are upon them by this point. "Nat, this is Lucy," says Tom. "An old friend. She just moved back to town." Juli hops slightly, eager to be noticed. "And this is Julianna," he adds. "She's almost four." Juli beams. Oh, to be so easy to please.

"How do you know my name?"

"Your mom told me," he says. "Like I said, we're old friends."

Juli looks to Lucy for confirmation. Lucy nods. "Yup. Old friends. So old… Super old. Ancient."

The girl (Nat) gives Lucy a slightly puzzled look, then smiles. "Well, it's awesome to meet you, Lucy – and Julianna. Tom's told me so much."

"Uh, yeah," says Lucy, completely bewildered because this doesn't seem like it could possibly be true. "Me, too." She shoots Tom a look. He shrugs.

 _Ancient?_ he mouths at her, as Nat bends down to talk to Juli.

 _I don't know!_ she mouths back. He coughs, swallowing a laugh.

**

"Don't be a stranger," he says, his hand on her shoulder, when they part ways by the watermelons. He and Nat are meeting some friends for brunch.

 _Brunch?_ she texts him a minute later, impulsively, with an alien emoji.

 _hangover brunch ;)_ he replies, immediately.

_Well, it's good to know you haven't completely changed._

**

Three weeks later: _hey stranger, didn't you promise to come visit me?_ he texts her, out of the blue. A beer emoji appears, and then, _sorry, i mean [wine emoji]._

She sends back a martini emoji and that one that looks like a tropical cocktail. _We can compromise._

But actually, the next time she goes by the bar, she hardly drinks anything. It's nearly empty that day, and she and Tom just talk for a good hour while he cuts lemon wedges. She shows him pictures of Julianna's birthday party, and then he asks about George so she tells him, and then he asks about work so she tells him. Once, in a small pause, she asks about Nat, but he just shrugs, smiles, and says, "She's good."

Two young men, maybe twenty-two, twenty-three, come in. Tom helps them, then retreats to Lucy's corner of the bar as they take their drinks to a table. "First date," he tells her, in an undertone. Lucy turns to look. "Careful," he says, amused. "Keep it subtle." They watch as one tells a joke and the other laughs.

"Meant to be?" she says, raising her eyebrows.

"No way," says Tom. "Gray Scarf is trying way too hard."

**

After that, she doesn't mean it to, but it becomes a bit of a routine. She drops by again two weeks later, and then a week and a half after that. She's there three times in October, plus one brief visit with Juli in tow, because she accidentally left her credit card the night before.

(To Lucy's surprise, Tom is great with Juli. He plonks her onto a stool and sets her up with a Shirley Temple and some crayons, and engages her in conversation as easily as if he does it for a living. Well, he does, it's true. But not usually with preschoolers, she'd think.

"What can I say, all women love me," he says, low, when he catches her watching, her mouth half-open in astonishment. "Even the tiny ones." He winks. And Lucy normally despises when anyone winks at anyone, but to tell the truth, he's always sort of pulled it off. Ugh.)

**

"What are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?" he asks, two weeks before the blessed event.

"Oh, um, I don't know," says Lucy. "George has Juli, so I think… I mean, I guess I might go to my parents'." It's a lie. Her parents are in Ohio, and Emma never comes all the way back from LA, and she's already told her mom she's too busy with work.

"You want to come to ours? Nat and her roommates always do a thing. 'Orphansgiving,' they call it."

"Oh – " Lucy falters. "No – I mean, I couldn't. I wouldn't want to crash your…orphans."

"You're not," he says, laughing. "The more the merrier. Anyway, no pressure, but she asked me to ask you."

"Oh," says Lucy, uncertainly. Tom leans down to look more closely at her. He smiles right at her, so _nice_ and unironic a smile that it almost doesn't seem like him. Her heart collides uncomfortably with her lungs, or something else terrible like that. "Well, should I…" She looks away from him and takes a hasty gulp of wine. It doesn't help. "Can I bring something?" she manages, strangled.

**

It's been a long time since Lucy's last potluck Thanksgiving, or indeed any holiday celebration with people she wasn't married or related to. George picks Julianna up at noon. Lucy throws the casserole together and shoves it in the oven and then tries on every sweater in her closet. Which one will make her look least old and out of place?! She wishes she'd gone to Jamie and Elise's after all. Sure, it might have been awkward with the kids asking about George and Juli, but at least they're her friends, and not a random collection of twenty-something strangers.

But in the end, it's not so bad. It's kind of nice, even. Nat's buzzer is broken, so Tom comes down to meet her. He relieves her of the casserole and her coat, ushers her into the living room, and introduces her to the nearest three people. They're all young and friendly and, Lucy realizes, devoid of any notion that, this time last year, she was getting divorced. Which of course, she remembers, is why she thought it might be more fun here than at Jamie and Elise's.

They play games. They drink. They stuff themselves with food. In one of the back rooms, people get high and watch _Yellow Submarine_ ; in the main room, someone puts on music and, to Lucy's amazement, people dance. "How are they doing that?" she shouts, to the nearest person, from where she's ensconced herself on the couch. "I'm so full! I could never dance."

"Are you sure?" says the nearest person, who turns out to be a very cute friend of Nat's that she's already flirted with once by the mashed potatoes. His name is Kyle, she's pretty sure, or maybe Brian.

Half an hour later, out on the makeshift dance floor, Lucy catches Tom's eye over Kyle/Brian's shoulder. He raises his eyebrows at her, grinning, and then lifts his beer in a salute.

"Shut up," she says, and he's too far away to hear, but he laughs, so she knows he knows what she said.

**

For Christmas, she gets him a tin of chocolate-covered peanuts. When he sees it, he bursts out laughing. "What?" she says. "I thought it was a good upgrade to the tradition."

"It is," he says, and, grinning, pulls from under the bar the exact same tin.

**

By February, she's coming by the bar at least once a week. She mostly comes to hang out with Tom, but sometimes she brings work, too. Sometimes he stays past six now. Sometimes he leaves, but she stays and hangs out with Eric (or Janine). Once she asks a date to meet her there at seven and then immediately regrets it. It's one of those days that Tom doesn't leave right away, and around six-thirty she starts to get very nervous that he'll still be there when her date arrives. Not that it matters. He saw her on a million dates before. But she didn't tell him about this one, and maybe that's weird, not that it should be, but maybe –

 _Running late! Sorry,_ the guy texts, and Lucy breathes a sigh of relief. Normally she hates when people are late, but. Behind the bar, Tom shrugs on his coat and comes to hug her goodbye.

**

St. Patrick's Day falls on a Thursday. There's a huge party at the bar, of course, and Nat isn't there, but her cute friend Kyle/Brian/turns-out-his-name-was-actually-Jake is. Lucy gets tipsy and makes out with him.

"Do you want to come back to my place?" she asks him. "I mean, I'd go back to yours, but your place is probably horrible, and my place is clean. And close. And I live alone. Well, except my kid. Did you know I have a kid? I have a kid. But it's not important. She's not there right now. I mean – "

"Nat told me you had a kid," he says, very close, _very_ cute. "I kept asking her for your phone number after Thanksgiving, but she said she didn't have it."

"Well, come home with me," says Lucy. "Save yourself a call. Or, well, a text. You'd probably text. What are you, like, twenty-two?"

"Twenty-eight," he says, looking amused.

Close enough. Whatever. She sleeps with him.

**

The next morning, she shoos Jake out of the apartment and fully expects never to see him again. "We should do this again," he says, because, as she understands it, that's what you say.

"Yeah, totally," she says, not remotely taking him at his word. "Call me, or…whatever." She looks him up and down one last time – god, he's cute; should've snuck a picture and sent it to Elise – and then shuts the door in his adorable face.

Thus it is that Tom catches her completely off guard when, on the following Tuesday, he leans down beside her on the bar and says, "So. Jake asked me for your number."

"Oh," she says, for lack of anything better to say.

She's not sure what look exactly she has on her face, but whatever it is, it makes Tom grin. "He said he didn't get to get it before you kicked him out in the morning. So I wasn't sure if you'd want me to give it to him."

"Uh…" and then, because Tom looks _so_ smug, and because hey, it is nice that Jake wants to see her again, and because apparently she's sexually empowered now: "Sure. Give it to him."

A small pause, so brief she later thinks she probably imagined it. "Okay."

And that, of all possible ways, is how she winds up with her first post-divorce boyfriend.

**

"So…" says Tom, one afternoon in April, interrupting Lucy tap-tapping away at a work email. Having left the office early to take Juli to a doctor's appointment (and then drop her off at the library with George), she's finishing up the day's work at the bar. Not the first time. She likes coming in early, the place not even open for happy hour yet, just her and Tom and the sunlight slanting through the windows. The small sounds of him moving around behind the bar.

"Hm?" she says, hitting send.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, it's fine. What's up?"

"I was just… A friend of mine gave me tickets to Cut Copy on Sunday night. I was wondering if you might want to go."

"Oh."

"Just if you're not doing anything. I mean, I thought you might like it. If not, I'm sure – "

"No, it's just – I mean, I'd love to, but I have plans. With Jake."

"Oh, sure, of course. You're still seeing him, then – "

"Yeah – "

"And it's going – "

"Yeah! I mean. Yeah."

**

Jake stays over often, but only on nights Julianna isn't there. "I'd love to meet her sometime," he says, and Lucy's sure he means it, but she knows that won't be happening anytime soon. Probably ever.

"So you're really into Jake, huh?" Tom asks, with mild curiosity, peering into her coffee cup and topping it up.

"Well…" she says, before she can think to lie. He looks at her and she doesn't know what it means. She shrugs, goes rummaging through her purse for nothing.

"You gonna get that promotion?" he says, moving away to get more ice.

"I don't know." She glances at him from behind her hair, disappointed, relieved. "They might give it to Sonya."

"Ugh, Sonya," says Tom, deadpan. "Hate that girl. It's like, enough about your cleanse!"

Brushing her hair out of her face, she catches his eye. He flicks a bit of water at her and grins.

**

 _Suck it, Sonya!_ she texts him, a week later.

 _yessss,_ he texts back, immediately. _knew it. congratulations!_ She grins down at the screen, about to reply, but then: _do you want to celebrate?_

For a second she just stares at it. Then shakes herself, because it's not like that's what he meant. _I can't,_ she types after a minute, feeling slightly too warm. _I have Juli._

 _[ice cream emoji]?_ he responds. _or [pancake emoji]?_

Lucy hesitates. Then, quickly, before she can change her mind: _She'd love that._

They do an early brinner at Pancake Paradise, and afterwards they walk to Baskin-Robbins, where Julianna finishes almost her entire cone before it melts all over her hand. It's only May, but it's a warm night, feels like summer. The air is sticky, though not as sticky as Juli.

"Can Tom come home and see my Legos?" she pleads, as Lucy swabs at her with a wet wipe.

Lucy glances up at Tom, wry. Though it's impossible to convey in one wry glance what she's thinking, which is, _See, this is what you get for making friends with a four-year-old._

"Oh, sweetie," she says. "I'm sure Tom probably has to go back to his house."

"And have a bath and go to bed?" says Juli.

"Yes, and have a bath and go to bed," says Lucy. She glances at Tom again, and it's all either of them can do to keep from bursting out laughing.

**

"So…" says Lucy, keeping her voice neutral and her eyes on her computer screen, "how's Nat doing?"

"Uh – good, I think. Haven't really seen her recently."

"What?" She looks over, confused, but Tom's not looking at her. He's slicing a lime.

"I mean, I ran into her at a party a couple of weeks back, but we didn't talk or anything." Then, as an afterthought, glancing up and seeing Lucy's flabbergasted expression: "You know we broke up."

"I… _When_?" says Lucy, too astonished to say _I'm sorry_ or _oh no I did not_ or – the big one – _why?_

"Uh…" Apparently, he has to think about it. Which is insane; who _doesn't remember_ when they broke up with someone that they've been dating for… God, actually, she doesn't know how long he and Nat were together. A year? Two? "January," he says, finally, after a ridiculously long time.

That's – four, maybe five months. _Tom has been single since January._

"Sorry," he says. "I thought I told you." He actually does look apologetic, but she doesn't believe him. She doesn't believe him _at all._

"No, you didn't," she says, her voice shaking.

He shrugs. "I must've forgotten."

"I talk to you – " _about everything._ "Every day," she finishes, instead.

Tom looks uncomfortable now. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again.

"What?!"

"Nothing. I mean. Yeah, but we mostly talk about you."

He says it like it's not a big deal, but he may as well have thrown a drink in her face. It is so – so _unfair_. "I ask you about your life," she says. "You just don't _tell_ me. It's not like I don't care about – "

"Luce…" He puts down the knife and tries to reach over, to put a hand on her arm or something. She yanks away, stumbles slightly getting off the stool. "Careful," he says, automatically.

"Don't tell me what to do!" The other people sitting at the bar are looking now. Lucy lowers her voice, a little. "And don't lie to me. You could've – _you didn't tell me on purpose_."

He doesn't deny it. Or at least, he doesn't deny it fast enough.

"Oh my god. It's like we're not even friends."

He doesn't deny that, either.

"Why are you like this?" she says. "We _are_ friends." She hears her own voice break. It makes her furious. With herself. With him. "Why do I come here if you're – "

"Why _do_ you come here?" says Tom, unexpected. "You have a boyfriend. Go talk to him."

That lands. "You're an asshole," she says, before she can stop herself.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, that's right. You're a jerk. I can't believe I thought – I don't know why I ever came back here."

"I don't know why you did either! So why don't you just go?"

"I _will_ ," she says, slamming her computer shut and shoving it in her purse. Her charge cord pulls out and clatters to the floor.

Behind the bar, Tom unplugs the other end and hands it to her without a word.

**

She's never had a fight with Tom before. But then again, of course she hasn't. Why would she? He's nothing to her. He's no one. It's crazy that she even thought they were friends, because they're totally different and he's just, he's basically a stranger she sees sometimes at the fucking…stupid…bar, and who names their bar _Deconstruction_ anyway, and – and who cares if –

"I just can't believe he didn't tell me," she says to Emma. And then to Elise. And then finally to Jake, when there's no one else left to complain to. "I mean, it's _fine_ …"

"Definitely sounds fine," says Jake, with infuriating mildness. He's lying on the couch with his computer on his stomach, grinning as he glances over at her pacing the living room. "Babe, is it that big a deal? You should tell him if it bothers you so much."

"No, I'm not going to tell him! I mean – I told him already. I mean – he's not even – I – "

**

For four weeks it's like that. Days when she wants to storm into the bar and yell at him some more. Days when she resolves to never go back to that stupid bar again, because that'll show him. Days when she feels, well, a little bit guilty.

More of those days, after a while.

"Can Tom come to my birthday party?" asks Juli, one Saturday when they're at the aquarium with George. (They're trying to do this occasionally now, go places, the three of them. "We're still a family," George says. Blah blah. The kind of thing she always loved him for, and hated sometimes, too, but mostly because he was right.)

"Tom?" says George. "Who's Tom?"

"No one," says Lucy, at the same time that Juli says:

"Mommy's friend from the bar."

"From the _bar_?" A variety of expressions cross George's face in about a second. It would be funny if the whole situation didn't make Lucy want to sink into the glass and (with any luck) be eaten by a shark. Then he seems to realize. "Oh, that bar." He's annoyed, but not that annoyed.

Julianna watches them curiously for a second, then loses interest and goes to tap on the nearest tank. "Juli, no," says Lucy, hastening to stop her. She directs her towards an interactive display, then glances back at George. "I dropped by with her on the way back from gymnastics once," she says, low. "Obviously we didn't give her any – "

George laughs, to her surprise. "I didn't think you did." He looks thoughtful. It makes her wary. "How is Tom?" he says, after a minute of that look. "Still…?" He makes a vague gesture, which Lucy understands to mean "sleeping with everything that moves."

"No," says Lucy, flatly.

**

Around the six-week mark, armed with the excuse that Juli wants to invite him to her birthday, Lucy decides to go back to the bar. It's been long enough. He probably feels really bad by now, and she feels bad, too. She's kind of surprised that he hasn't texted her, but then, she did kind of yell at him in the middle of his…job. She shouldn't have done that. She'll apologize.

But when she comes up to the familiar patio and looks in through the window – nervous, a little overcaffeinated – it's Eric behind the bar. He looks up, sees her, and waves.

Her heart pounds. "Where's Tom?" she says, banging through the door.

Eric rolls his eyes. "It's always 'where's Tom' with you," he says, grinning. "What am I, chopped liver?"

Her face must say – something. It's obvious from Eric's that he immediately feels bad.

"Don't worry. He's on vacation. Spain! Some people have all the fun."

Lucy stares at him for a second, feeling – strange, and then, to her horror, realizes that that stinging coming to her eyes is tears.

Eric is startled, downright alarmed. "He'll be back Monday!" he says, clearly at a loss. "I can take a message if you… I mean, you could also probably text h – can I get you a drink?"

**

_I'm really_

_Hi Tom, I'm really_

_Sorry I_

_How is_

_I heard_

_Spain_

_Are you_

Ugh. She gives up, chucks her phone at the couch. It bounces – _fwump_ – then slides off and falls to the floor. _Clunk._

**

On Tuesday afternoon she has a late meeting. Her heart is full of the possibility that he won't be at the bar by the time she gets there. But he is. He is. The sight of him arrests her.

It's busy by this time, not midnight busy, but peak happy-hour busy. She weaves her way through to where the bar ends and waits there, feeling like if she opens her mouth she might cry. At the bar. Again. Lucy's not wild about this becoming a habit.

It takes Tom a few minutes to notice her, and even then he doesn't come over right away. Sure, well, it's busy –

She looks down at the floor, at her own toes. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him close someone out, put some glasses in the dishwasher, dry his hands. Then he's nearer – nearer – beside her. She looks up at him and tries a smile, with mixed results.

How did she ever think she knew exactly who he was? He's impossible to read.

"I hear you missed me," he says, finally, with the tiniest catch in his voice like he's trying not to laugh. She wants to kick him. She wants to kiss him. He puts a hand out towards her, the smallest possible suggestion of, _would you like a hug?_

"No," she says, crying into his shirt, seconds later. "I barely knew you were gone."

**

Thursday night, she takes Jake out to dinner and breaks up with him. "Yeah, I kind of figured," he says. He kisses her cheek and puts her in a cab, and she watches him cross the street to the subway and thinks, what a nice boy.

 _Are you still at the bar?_ she texts Tom, after only a little bit of hesitation.

It takes him a minute to respond. She pictures him out somewhere, not seeing it, not thinking about her. Then:

_no, i went home.  
what's up?_

Her finger hovers over the keyboard. She could just not reply. Tell the cab driver to take her home, too. She almost does, really. But then he's typing again. It pops up:

_you ok?_

…Well, that's what she gets for embarrassing herself crying all over him because he went on vacation. She stares down at the message. Then types:

_Just wanted to see you.  
Can I come over?_

**

She's never seen Tom's apartment before. It's…cleaner than she expected.

"I thought you lived in Brooklyn," she says, putting her purse down cautiously next to the door. Now that she's here, she feels totally unprepared.

"I used to," he says. "Good memory." A long pause. Lucy realizes suddenly that they've never been alone together anywhere but the bar. "I moved up here for a girl," he says. Completely not what she was expecting him to say. "Obviously we broke up, but…turned out it was nice being closer to the bar, so. I got this place."

"It's – nice," she says, a little lost for words. He's never said anything before about other girlfriends. "I like it."

"Well, then, come in," he says. "If you want." He gestures vaguely towards the couch and disappears into the kitchen. "You want some water?"

"Um, sure," she says. And then, "I broke up with Jake."

A very long pause. Tom comes back from the kitchen with no water and just stands there, looking at her. She doesn't know if it's a good looking or a bad looking.

"I mean – I'm just – that doesn't mean _we_ have to be together. I'm not saying – I mean I _want_ to – but we don't – obviously not if you – " She breaks off. This is not going at all how she planned. "I just thought you might want to…know," she finishes, lamely.

"I…" Tom looks faintly amused now. God, he's the worst. "All right, well," he says, "you're clearly losing it. Why don't you go sit on the couch, and I'll get you that water."

"No, come on." She moves closer, reaches out to touch his arm and then changes her mind. Something passes over his face that she's seen before. "Listen to me, I'm serious. I _love_ you. I mean, I like you. I mean, I probably love you. And it's fine if you don't feel the same way but I – I kind of thought… Like, before, I thought, maybe if you broke up with – " She takes a breath. His hands are in his pockets and she has no idea what he's thinking, but. "Look. I really… I don't know what I'd do without you, so – I'm glad we're friends. But I also…"

"You also what?" he says, and now _his_ hand is on _her_ arm and he's – very close.

"I also…" But of course he kisses her, which is as good as she remembers, and then there are some other things, which are better.

**Author's Note:**

> ...s-so many people to thank. my wonderfully picky dearest and most delightful beta, and then like about a million other people that i bothered for tiny details or complained to incessantly while writing this fic. i love you all!
> 
> title from "bartender" by lady antebellum. lol.


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